The Insect's Song
by Laota II
Summary: Are the boys having a theological conversation? That's what they get for watching movies with an Angel.
1. Fate is Kind

THE COUNTRY SIDE INN - NIGHT

Long about midnight, in the hallway of a crappy backwoods motel, Sam walked to the ice machine with Castiel, carrying a couple of gray plastic ice buckets. They were in the middle of a friendly disagreement.

"I don't know," Sam said. "I don't think it's even worth the bargain bin price. The whole movie was totally self-righteous. Kinda promotes the Just-World Fallacy, you know?"

Castiel frowned, all confused. "What's the Just-World Fallacy?" he asked.

"It's this B.S. belief that we all deserve what happens to us," Sam said. They reached the ice machines and Sam began filling his buckets. "It's like when rich people rationalize getting rid of public assistance. They tell themselves poor people are only poor because they're lazy."

Castiel seemed even more confused. "What... does that have to do with Pinocchio?"

"Okay: every time something bad happens to Pinocchio, it's painted as being all his fault, for disobeying Geppetto. But in _reality_, the god of his world is a giant dick." Sam handed Castiel an ice bucket and they started back for the Winchester's room. "Pinocchio is brought to life, but he's empty and completely naive. The minute he's left alone, this conman shows up and takes advantage of his innocence. I mean, this world's full of bad guys, but they're never punished. Not. Ever. It's all laid at this poor kid's doorstep. So the only lesson you can come away from the story with, is 'be a good little puppet, or we'll use you for kindling.' I mean, that's a pretty dark world to live in."

Castiel gave Sam a critical look. "I thought it was the opposite of that," he said.

"Really?" As they came to the room, Sam handed Castiel the other bucket so he could find his key and unlock the door. "The world that turns kids into pack mules is a shining, happy one?"

Castiel shrugged. "Obviously."

"Fine, what do _you_ think Pinocchio was about-. And if you say 'God,' you're banished to the car."

Castiel didn't answer. He and Sam stood looking at each other for a few seconds before Sam rolled his eyes and unlocked the door.

"Okay," Sam sighed, "how is Pinocchio about God?"

"Because the greater moral message of the story," Castiel said, "is that the universe is not indifferent. That somewhere, there is a caring God. When the angel came-.

"Fairy," Sam said, opening the door. "The Blue Fairy."

Castiel made a little derisive noise and went inside. He set the ice by the TV. "When _she_ came," Castiel said, sounding annoyed, "it was because the man led a good life and his labors were holy. He's righteous, and so heaven smiled on his endeavors. And the puppet might have been lead astray by evil, but only because he ignored his conscience. He knew what he was doing when he betrayed the man, that's why he lied."

Sam thought about it for a second and went to the mini fridge. "Yeah, but what about Geppetto and the Fairy?" he asked. "They created a life, _an inhuman life_, and then left it to it's own devices. They basically unleashed a monster, albeit a helpless one." He got out a couple of beers and handed one to Castiel.

"They had faith in him," Castiel said, holding his beer up and staring at it. "He proves himself in the end."

Sam opened both bottles. "_In the end_," he said, "Pinocchio goes insane, climbs into the belly of the beast and dies. He gets his wish because the only thing that wins a god's respect in that psychotic universe is this crazy, fantasy fist-fight between a sea monster and a haunted doll."

"The puppet offered penance for his lies and betrayal," Castiel said, "and was rewarded with good fortune. He's not only resurrected, but the man's fondest wish for him - that he become human, and so have a chance at true happiness - is granted. That's why the insect sings that 'fate is kind.' If the universe was arbitrary, none of those miracles would've happened."

Sam considered it for a moment. He looked a somewhat surprised. "Huh. I think you might be right, Cas."

"Should we watch it again?" Castiel asked.

"_Nope_."


	2. Still Small Hours

THE COUNTRY SIDE INN - NIGHT

It wasn't even one in the morning yet when Dean returned from his first-aid and food run. He entered the motel room with a five-gallon size bag from the nearest taco/fried chicken place.

"Don't have to tell me I'm late," Dean said, dropped his bag and coat on the bed nearest the door. "The taco place was crawling with cops. I had to go to the ATM, but the guy at the gas station..."

He noticed Sam and Castiel hadn't even bothered to look up. They were sitting and watching Sam's laptop at the crappy little dining table. There were beer bottles all around Sam. He was in a good mood, but his expression was hazy and slack-jawed.

"_Ooookay_," Dean said. He dug a giant, foil-wrapped bean burrito out of his bag and brought it over to Sam, giving the laptop definite stink-eye. "Is that the sequel or something?"

"Dean," Sam whispered, fumbling the burrito. "This movie is so much better with beer. I mean, it's, like,_ about me_. You know? It's like my whole life,... but with really different music. Oh, hey, the thing. We figured out the moral of Pinocchio."

Dean considered it while he got himself a beer. "Uh,... no snitchin'? Free vacations are a scam. Everyone's got that one friend who's a jackass. And if a guy spends all his time with work instead of women, eventually, he will be visited by the little people."

Sam scrunched his face up in disgust. "Why do you ruin everything I love?"

Dean opened his beer and sat on the edge of the bed behind them. "Just sayin'. The odds Geppetto's stuffing something wackier than tabbaccy in his pipe are pretty high. Anyway, I thought they didn't have WiFi here. How are you guys watching that crap?"

Sam grinned a big, dumb grin. "It's the DVD," he said. "We own it now."

Dean snorted. "You spent good money on a cartoon about puppets?" he asked.

Sam leaned back, twisting around until he could see Dean. "Not _me_," Sam said. He giggled under his breath.

Dean's face fell. He glared at the back of Castiel's head. "Cas," he asked in a sarcastically gentle tone, "did you start a paper route?"

Castiel's lips kinda went into his mouth. He tried to look back at Dean without moving his head, then took a deep breath. "I put it on the card," he said, and took a quick swig of beer.

"On what card?" Dean asked. "Your library card?" Dean got up and tapped the laptop's space bar.

"Buzzkill," Sam mumbled.

Dean loomed over Castiel expectantly.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, finally looking at Dean. "I was being deliberately vague."

"No kidding," Dean said. He held his hand out. "Cough it up, Babyface."

Castiel fished the pieces of a cut-up credit card out of his pocket and carefully arranged it in Dean's hand so that it was card-shaped again.

Dean almost whimpered when he saw it. "This card had five-hundred bucks on it. I've been gone for less than two hours, and you guys are exactly where I left you. How the hell did you spend it all?"

"I've had it for a week," Castiel said.

Shaking with rage, Dean looked like he might've been having a near-death experience. His face was becoming increasingly pinched.

Castiel braced himself, chin up. "It wasn't your money," he said, almost admonishingly. "I didn't think you'd mind. Last week, I was called away to New Jersey by a homeless man's prayer. When I cured his diabetes, he praised God. So I bought him shoes."

Dean clenched his fists, trying to calm down. "Were they** really awesome** shoes, Cas?" Dean asked through his teeth.

"He was malnourished," Castiel said. "I bought him soup."

"This story doesn't end at a brothel, by any chance?"

"We were in Asbury Park," Castiel said. "I saw some children playing a game and bought them some tokens. I also bought a harmonica and a coat for a woman in Austria."

Sam squinted, fighting to stay in the moment. "Why did the Austrian lady need a harmonica?" he asked.

"She..." Castiel started looking guilty again. "Didn't. The harmonica was for me. I had some small, plastic ones, but all they did was wheeze."

Sam and Dean looked at Castiel like he was a flaming nut-bag.

"I won them," Castiel said. "The children at the park taught me how to skeeball. I gave them my tickets, but they insisted on giving me orange harmonicas."

"Dude," Sam said, looking like he was about to blow chunks, "I don't even remember what we were talking about."

Dean shook his head. He was trying like hell not to smile. "Son of a bitch," he said to Castiel, stifling a laugh. "You blew most of that money playing skeeball, didn't you?"

Castiel turned back to the laptop. "It's not something I'm proud of," he said.


	3. Mulligan

THE COUNTRY SIDE INN - EARLY MORNING

It was almost five. Sam was passed out cold in his bed, and Dean was sitting in his chair. He and Castiel had been watching Sam's laptop for a couple of hours now. Dean had been eating his way to the bottom of the taco bag and was currently half-way though a large dessert empanada, while Castiel was still nursing the same bottle of beer Sam gave him nearly five hours ago.

"I find this movie's portrayal of cats doesn't jibe with my own experience," Castiel said.

"Yeah," Dean said through a mouthful, "that's the unbelievable part. What I wanna know is, if this dude really wanted a family, why didn't he just have one? Like, the old-fashioned way, instead waiting around for Barbara Eden to show up? I mean, maybe he didn't have the sexiest job in the world, but he seems like an okay guy. There had to be some chick out there willing to become Mrs. Crazy Italian Crap."

Castiel smiled sympathetically. "That's the tragedy of this poor man," he said. "He locked himself away in his work, to the benefit of countless others, but the lifestyle wasn't conducive to starting a family. The opportunity passed him by."

Dean smirked. "Poor bastard. He'd probably been wishing for stuff his whole life - money, chicks, a bowling alley - and the one time someone up there's listening, it just happens to be Puppet Day."

Castiel gave Dean a quick, reproachful glance. "I don't think those other prayers would've been sincere enough to justify divine intervention," he said.

"Yeah," Dean said, "but don't you feel... I dunno, sorry for him? He makes a stupid wish when he's half-asleep and ends up saddled with this puddin'-headed sumbitch who breaks everything he touches. Bet if they gave him a mulligan, Geppetto would wish for a Lamborghini."

Castiel frowned thoughtfully. "You think the man regrets his prayer?" he asked.

"There had to be _times_ when he did, yeah. Like when the little maroon lit his finger on fire. Made of **friggin' wood** and he's setting himself on fire. He doesn't get why it's stupid. He doesn't even feel it. Hell, he doesn't feel anything. They tell him something, and damned if it doesn't go in one ear and out the other. Everything just rolls off his back. How is someone like that ever gonna learn?"

"He does, though," Castiel said. "Eventually, he takes responsibility for the consequences of his actions. He even sacrifices his life to save the man's."

"Yeah, but how does he figure that out?" Dean asked, wiping apple filling off the corner of his mouth. "They don't even show that part. He hasn't learned jack squat, the grasshopper told him not to and there's no epiphany moment. When the time comes, he just knows what to do. Lazy writing, if you ask me."

Castiel thought about it for a moment. "He appeared to be compelled," he said.

"By what?" Dean asked. He held out his empanada to Castiel. "Hey, try that." Castiel shook his head and Dean tried to put it in his hand. "Come on," he said, "empanadas are awesome. What are you worried about, cooties?"

He broke a small piece of the empanada off and held it too close to Castiel's face, nearer his eye than his mouth. Castiel leaned away as much as he could, but Dean was being a dork about it. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"If I eat that," Castiel asked, "can we then just watch the movie?"

"Honest injun," Dean said.

Castiel took the piece of empanada and put it in his mouth, but grimaced at the taste. He seemed to have trouble swallowing it.

"What?" Dean asked.

"It's a bit sweet," Castiel said.

"It's supposed to be sweet, it's dessert."

Castiel shrugged. "Then I guess it's fine," he said.

"Man, you gotta eat _something_," Dean said." Castiel gave him a look. "Alright, so you don't. It's just for kicks, don't be such a robot."

Castiel seemed a little offended. "I'm not a robot," he said.

"You're Lt. Commander Data," Dean said.

"You're being oddly obsessive, Dean."

"**Fine**," Dean said. "Watch your stinkin' movie." Castiel continued to stare at him. Dean tried not to notice, until he couldn't anymore. "What?"

"Something's upsetting you," Castiel said.

"I'm not upset," Dean said. Castiel just kept on staring. "_I'm not upset_. I just... I dunno. Sometimes I forget, okay? Sue me."

"Forget what?" Castiel asked.

Dean shifted in his chair. "...That you're not human."

Dean and Castiel sat silently for a moment, watching the movie.

"You forget that a lot," Castiel said. After a moment, he added, "Empanadas are good."

"Friggin' told you."


	4. Done

THE COUNTRY SIDE INN - MORNING

Seven in the morning. Castiel stared out the window of the motel room, watching snow flurries blanket the highway with powder. Only the scrape of a snowplow cut through the relative silence. Dean had been foggy for a few minutes and was basically half-asleep, sitting the foot of his bed, trying to kick his boots off with as little effort as possible.

"Think he actually wants to?" Dean mumbled.

Castiel turned from the window. "Dean?"

Dean took in a deep breath through his nose and got a yawn out of his system. "The puppet," he said. "Guy didn't ask. I mean, anything's better than bein' a puppet, right? But the guy never asked. No one did."

Castiel walked over to Dean. "You mean, do I think Pinocchio wanted to be human?"

"Yeah."

"No," Castiel said. "That wasn't his wish."

Dean scoffed as best he could, considering he was practically asleep now. "So he doesn't get a wish? That **bites**."

"No, he does get his wish," Castiel said. "They both do. They're just not the same wish."

"Yeah?" Dean's boots were finally off, so he laid back and smiled a crooked, slack smile. "Good on him. It would kinda screw the ending if he went through all that BS for just more S."

"I agree," Castiel said. "I think I'd like a new movie. Maybe something with elephants. Lately, I find I'm very interested in larger species."

"Not Dumbo," Dean said. "Sam'll holy oil the crap outta you if you bring home a circus movie. Oh, dude, _Jungle Book_. Baloo is badass. There's no chicks, though. And the part with the barbershop quartet, that's a mind-screw." Dean stared up at the ceiling. "I still don't get it."

"Four barbers in the jungle?" Castiel asked. "Don't tell Sam, but I think I might already have a theory."

"Not that, I meant the other thing. The Pinocchio thing. What he got out of the whole 'real boy' megillah."

"That baffled me, too," Castiel said. He sat on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, and turned his gaze to the window. "At first, I was confused by his miraculous nature. I wondered what might compel a creature lacking - one can assume - an endocrine system. As a wooden object, he came from trees, but wasn't loyal to them, as he demonstrated by burning wood in his escape from the whale. Then I thought it might've been the angel giving him his objective, as his sentience was a gift from God. But then I noted his frequent disregard for orders, so I was back to square one. There was only one conclusion left to draw. His imperatives appear to have formed, not by his biology or any spiritual alignment, but by a single event. While life-affirming, it is extremely curious."

At this point, Castiel noticed Dean was asleep. He had been since "endocrine system." Both Winchesters seemed to be done for the day, so Castiel went back to the window, watching the storm become a blizzard.


End file.
